


Viridem

by club27



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dream SMP Ensemble - Freeform, Drinking, Explicit Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, There Is a War, badass dnf, schlatts an asshole (again), sort of set in minecraft, space cowboys au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/club27/pseuds/club27
Summary: George is chosen as a yearly tribute to go kill the Ender Dragon, but he ends up being sucked into an intergalactic war against the world's biggest asshole by some mysterious dude named "Dream" who he also totally doesnotfall in love with.or a space cowboys (?) au bc why not
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to this au that i will hopefully finish

George knew what he was being chosen for when the knock on the door came. The image of his mother’s worry and father’s stone-cold facade were still fresh in his mind. It happened every single year for as long as anyone could remember -- one person would be chosen to fight the new Ender Dragon, the hatchling who came of the previous dragon’s defeat.

Being a young, capable man from an inner city made him likely to be chosen. His friends had teased him about it, claiming he would be the next pick and, well, here he was. It was an unfortunate year to be chosen, however; the year before had been different than the usual tradition. 

Firstly, it was a fabled and talented village boy. It wasn’t often that people were chosen from outside of the inner cities, but his capabilities proved worthy of the task. It seemed the choice was correct because he defeated the dragon quickly. 

But then everything changed -- he came back through the portal, hurriedly gathering supplies and speaking to no one, and disappeared to The End once more. 

No one had ever done such a thing before. They defeated the dragon, maybe chose to try and search for the Elytra that was so valued in legends, and either died or came crawling back beaten to hell and back.

For George to be the one going in after him… it was scary, to say the least. Who knows what he would find upon stepping into that portal. The thought of what came next for him plagued his mind, though he was brought back to reality by the cleric’s voice. 

The stone beneath him was cold as he knelt before the altar. The looming faceless statues of their only Gods stood before him, nearly as tall as the overarching ceilings. Viridem, Caeruleus; the all-knowing deities. Blue sunlight from stained glass windows cascaded down onto his body, bathing him in ethereal light. 

Something in Latin was recited by the cleric, but it went in one ear and out the other. His heart pounded in his ears at the prospect that this was really happening.

The words stopped, and he rose to his feet. The sunlight shifted to a bright green, dulled and yellowed by his own eyes. Before him was an abundance of supplies provided by the people of the city. Freshly baked loaves of bread, carefully packaged cuts of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, tools and armor made from the finest netherite ores, all stored in a backpack and laid out on the altar.

“You may put the armor on, George,” the cleric spoke. His eyes looked kind, like he had seen this all too many times before and understood what he was feeling. The energy around him seemed as ancient as the temple itself. 

The eyes of the most important people in the city were on him as he pulled on the armor. It was heavy, adding a physical touch to the metaphorical weight on his shoulders. A blue sheen from enchantment glowed faintly in the dim room. 

With a final blessing, he was off to load his belongings onto a horse and set out to find the portal. Walking through the aisle was nerve-wracking, trying to ignore the quiet words of prayer from the crowd in the pews.Their eyes burned holes in his back. Outside, the morning sun was blinding. His parents had followed him out, standing beside a tall brown and white stallion.

“George…” his mother sighed softly, dainty hand reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch slightly, a comforting memory of his distant childhood. Leaving the city meant leaving all of that behind for who knows how long.“Be safe.” 

George kept the brave face he had on, clinging desperately to it. His father’s hard face wasn’t so bad when he saw the fear and pride swelling in his eyes. They hugged silently, and then his mother said, “I love you, George, please come back in one piece.” 

He put one foot on the stirrup of the saddle, and smiled down at his mom. “Of course, mum. I will.” Maybe. He wasn’t quite sure of his fate. With a last look at his parents, he swung his leg over the horse’s back and pulled at its reigns. Maybe it was the last time he would see them. 

The map in his hands was heavy as he followed the landmarks mapped long ago. The brick buildings of the city fell away to cobblestone huts, becoming more sparse by the minute. 

Children watched him go by, stopping from their games to cheer. Adults who were busy washing clothes in large wooden buckets or spinning wool to sell off to the city gave him worried smiles. 

He had never been so far out of the city in his life. It was a little terrifying, to say the least.

When he set out, the sun had just risen above the horizon, but it was high in the sky by the time he passed the edge of civilization in the area. The woods were dense and his horse whinnied at the thorns that managed to poke through its armor. 

“I know,” he shushed it, running his hand along its mane in an attempt to calm it. The underbrush was becoming thicker, but he could see slight paths where others had ripped through it before. 

The nearest portal to The End was half of a week’s journey from the city. It was slow and tiresome, and George had to rest each night to will away the monsters and allow his horse some rest from endless walking. 

When he finally reached the stronghold, he had half of his food left and decided to tie his horse to an old piece of wood sticking up from the muddy ground. 

The old stone bricks were overgrown with moss and chipped from years of interacting. Little silverfish scuttled across the ground, their lithe bodies slithering beneath the mess of ground cover. He cringed at the thought of all the bugs around the place. 

Pushing through the cobweb infested archway, he entered the long, dark hallway. Torches along the wall were long since burnt out. More cobwebs coated the walls, and the whole place smelled dingy and wet. 

It was disgusting, and he hoped to never have to come back here once he killed the stupid dragon; _if_ he killed the thing. 

A light towards the end of the tunnel signalled his destination -- the portal room. It was built of stone bricks just like the rest of the place, but vats of lava lit each corner of the room. Iron bars were built into the pillars that supported the ceiling. The stairway leading up to the portal itself was cracked. 

Slowly, he walked up it until he saw the thing itself. The eyes of ender were intimidating, glassy and staring into nothing from their spots. The portal seemed to hold all of the universe itself. 

He was supposed to just go and jump in?

That’s what he had heard in every legend since he was a child, but it seemed so intimidating now. He surely wasn’t as brave as all of those heroic figures in children’s storybooks. The looming darkness stared back at him blankly, challenging him to get over himself.

Cautiously, George rested his hands on the cool surface of the portal. He stepped onto it, one foot after the other, and then he was falling into endless darknes. All around him, twinkling stars blurred together. 

He screamed, the noise ripped from his throat out of pure fear. It seemed like forever, falling away to absolutely nothing at all. 

When he finally came to, he was in a cave of.. yellow stone. End stone. It was dusty and chalky, some of it leaving residue on his armor. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself, pulling himself onto his knees. 

He felt disoriented, dusting his palms off on his thighs and pressing them against his closed eyelids. The rucksack of stuff lay next to him, and he picked it up, hauling himself onto his feet. His head spun and his vision went dark around the edges for a moment. 

There was a crumbling makeshift staircase that looked as if it had been mined out over and over. Once he stepped out of it, he wasn’t sure what to expect. _Guess you’ll never get out of here if you don’t try_ , George thought to himself. 

He stepped onto the first chunk, unsure, and continued up the long pathway. At the top, little twinkling stars peeked out from the opening. 

Once he reached the top, he was instantly shocked by the loud screech of the Ender Dragon. It was huge, body pitch black as the sky around it. The only color that separated it from the empty space was its gray horns and wings and disconcerting, luminous violet eyes. It flew around tall obsidian towers, seeming to suck power from levitating purple crystals. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his entire life. 

Endermen teleported around him, roaming around in packs -- there was more than he’d ever seen before. There had to be over a hundred, all resembling the dragon with their purple eyes. 

There were ten obsidian towers, each varying in height. The shortest two had iron bars clad around the crystals, and he knew he should save them for last since he would have to somehow break the bars. 

George desperately tried to regain composure, quickly pulling out his bow and quiver of arrows. The dragon hadn’t spotted him yet luckily, but it would soon if he wasn’t quick. 

Ducking behind one of the large yellow boulders, he aimed directly at the current crystal the dragon was attached to, trying to remember all of the legends he’d heard. Closing one eye, he focused, breathing deeply, and then shooting--

The crystal exploded in a brilliant display of glass and light, and the dragon cried out in pain. The sound was so loud that his ears began to rang, but he stealthily ducked behind a tower and out of the dragon’s view. 

It definitely knew he was here now, and if he wasn’t quick, he was fucked. He continued the process with the rest of the crystals, dodging its view and avoiding the gaze of the Endermen.

But his luck just _had_ to be shit of course; and Endermen locked eyes with him, and began screeching angrily, jaw hanging open threatingly. It got close to him, slashing at his arms with its long arms. 

“Shit!” George cried out, one of its claws cutting through a gap in the armor. He swung his sword at it over and over, spinning in circles as it teleported around him. “Stupid fucking Endermen.” he swore, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. The last two crystals remained, and he had to destroy them before he could kill the damned dragon.

Hurriedly pulling the grapple from his rucksack, he flung it towards the top of the tower. Luckily it caught on the stone, and he tried to haul himself up as quick as possible. The dragon spotted him just as he got to the top, swooping towards him with a bellow. 

As it flew overhead, he flung his axe towards its belly. It caught the scales there, ripping a gash, the axe clattering somewhere below on the endstone. The dragon cried out painfully, flying away angrily. It gave him time to hurriedly break the bars with his pickaxe before climbing down and repeating the process with the other tower.

With his final few arrows and some grace of the Gods with his accuracy, he shot down the last two crystals, reveling in their beautiful display that meant he could finally kill the dragon. It flew towards the middle just as he suspected, spitting purple gas around at him as he tried to get close. 

George dodged it as much as he could, the armor protecting him from what he couldn’t. In a final moment of pent up rage and adrenaline, he cried out as he swung his sword like a crazed hooligan at the beast over and over. It desperately tried to fight back, screeching and flapping its wings, reaching out with claws that would surely tear him apart in an instant if he wasn’t so strategic. 

The dragon made the mistake of getting its neck close, because he swung his sword a final time. As prideful of a moment as it should’ve been, George couldn’t bring himself to watch the beheading of any type of creature. He squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving from the action. 

And was promptly crushed beneath the weight of the Ender Dragon’s head.

It was the last thing George realized before his head swam into darkness. 

When George came to, the first thing he was aware of was the awful throbbing migraine. Then he became aware of the soreness in his arms and legs, and his eyes shot open at the realization that he was _in a bed_. 

The room he was in had a homely atmosphere, but he was unable to appreciate it because he was quite literally panicking. Lanterns painted the room in a soft glow, flames licking the glass that contained them. They hung from high glass ceilings that showed the starry night sky. That was about all he could see because of the curtains obscuring his view. He must be in some type of infirmary.

Sitting up slowly, George groaned at the ache in his limbs. There was quiet mumbling and clinks of cutlery around him. He wondered if he was still in the End.

The curtain gave way for a moment, and in came an unfamiliar figure.

The guy was tall, and his hoodie (was it yellow, or green? George couldn’t tell) and jeans were battered and stained with old blood and Gods knows what. His face and some of his dirty blonde hair were obscured by a clean white mask that had only an unsettling smiley face painted on. “You’re awake,” he commented. 

That’s when he realized: this was the boy who had fought the dragon the previous year. George looked at him, craning his neck because he was so tall. “You’re the guy who fought the dragon.” said George stupidly. He cursed himself for being a dumbass.

“The dragon’s head crushed you and gave you a concussion,” he chose to ignore George’s comment. “but the portal’s broken so you can’t go home anyways.”

George was horrified at both facts. First of all, he got a concussion from beheading the dragon in front of this prodigy, and probably looked insanely stupid. Second, he _couldn’t go home?_

“Wait-- what?” he said. Then he realized that his rucksack was nowhere to be seen, and he tried to stand up. It made his head throb even more and he stumbled, knees buckling from the pain he was in. The guy quickly caught him, and in a moment of shame and embarrassment, he leaned his head into this stranger’s chest. 

“Calm down,” came the guy’s voice, and he gently laid George back onto the bed. “You have a concussion, and your first thought is to get out of bed like a maniac?”

“Who _are_ you? And where am I? What the fu--” 

“Look, I suggest you calm down before you hurt yourself more. I’ll explain all this shit to you later, but right now you’re in no position to be worrying about any of it,” he cut George off. “You can call me Dream.”

Dream’s smiley face mask taunted him to say anything else, so he sat back and crossed his arms. Taking a deep breath to calm down, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back and tried to ease the inner turmoil going through his brain. 

What did he know? Well, he was probably still in the End, and he was in some infirmary. Obviously this “Dream” guy knew some shit about the situation at hand. And… that was about it. 

Another boy rushed through the curtain with a tray, breathlessly grabbing Dream’s shoulder. “Bad needs you,” he said, and then stopped to look at George. “Oh, he’s awake.” 

_Of course, talk about me like I’m not right here._ George inwardly scoffed. Dream just nodded at the boy’s words and wordlessly left, walking hurriedly to whoever ‘Bad’ was. “You’ve been out for a few hours,” said the new guy. “How are you feeling?”

Something about his presence felt sort of warm and comfortable. There was a white bandana wrapped around his forehead and an inviting smile playing on his lips. The tray he wheeled in had some vials of brightly colored liquid that George presumed were potions and soft looking loaves of bread. 

“Uh.. I have a headache, and I’m sore.” mumbled George. He felt like this new guy could be trusted, but he was still unsure of everything. 

“That’s to be expected when you get crushed by a dragon,” snorted the guy. “My name’s Nick, but call me Sapnap. I’ll be your medic for the next two weeks or however long you take to heal. Here, drink this--” he handed him one of the vials, which had some type of blue liquid. 

George had never been one to get into potions because being colorblind made the practice dangerous. He eyed it suspiciously, and took it with caution. 

“It’s a potion of healing,” Sapnap laughed. “Nothing bad. This one’s strength. Concussions last like three months, but this should halve the process.” 

The potions didn’t really have a taste, but it was warm on the way down. The ache in his muscles subsided slightly and the migraine he had dulled significantly. Sighing in relief, George sat up better, and took a piece of the bread that Sapnap offered. 

“So can you tell me where I am or what the hell I’m doing here, since Dream didn’t want to?”

Sapnap scratched his neck nervously, averting his gaze. “Well, no, I can’t. All I can say is that you’re in the End and the portals broken. We can explain more once you’re healed up.”

George flopped back in bed, groaning angrily. Why did he have to get stuck in the End of all places? Sapnap stayed with him while he finished the bread, but once he finished, he had to tend to other patients and was off, leaving him alone in his small cubicle. 

This predicament he was in was not ideal at all. He wasn’t sure how long he laid in the bed, staring up at the eternal night sky before he fell back asleep. When he awoke again, the sky was still dark, never turning to day. George wondered if the sun had risen on this strange planet before at all. Probably not, he supposed.  
The next week was spent in the infirmary bed, chatting with Sapnap each time he came to give him potions or food. The only times he got out of bed was to use the restroom. The room was large and open, with some people milling about, and there was many beds sectioned off by curtains like his. It made him wonder just how many people there were living in the End.

In all of the legends of fighting the Ender Dragon he’d heard as a child, none had mentioned anything about people living there. There were some fables of “End Cities” and how they held the Elytra, but there was nothing about people actually _living_ in them. They were merely legends about some cape that enabled people to glide. 

On the third day, George decided to try to get information out of Sapnap. “So can you at least tell me what’s going on here? Why the portal’s broken and all?” 

Sapnap smiled tightly, carefully mixing together some concoction that George would have to drink. His hands were quick and skilled, stirring expertly. “It’s not my place to.” was all that he said to that, and George’s face fell. Grumpily, he went back to watching Sapnap prepare his next potion.

Sapnap hadn’t been keen on telling him information, so he gave up on asking after that day. He kept reiterating that George would find out more from Dream once he was healed and ‘ready’. Ready for what, he had no idea, but he supposed he would have to wait and find out. He also wasn’t sure why the hell Dream was the one that would have to tell him.

Halfway through the second week, Dream reappeared in his little bed area with new clothes (he’d been wearing his same clothes every day at this point) and Sapnap telling him he could leave the infirmary. 

The clothes were comfortable, albeit a little too big on him, and he realized they were probably Dream’s. It was a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, plus a hoodie (according to Sapnap, the End was sort of cold). Dream and Sapnap talked in hushed tones until he came back. He cleared his throat, and they turned around quickly to look at him. 

Sapnap’s familiar grin was comforting as he slapped a gentle hand on George’s upper back. “I’ll see you soon, dude. Remember to keep drinking those potions every day, and you should be fine in a few more weeks.” Though the soreness had subsided completely, he still had migraines here and there. 

“Uh, of course. Thank you,” he said, a bit sad to leave Sapnap behind. He was really his only ‘friend’ so far, and now he was being whisked away with a cold dude who he didn’t know at all. 

Dream led him to the front reception area of the infirmary, in which George had never been in. It was brighter than the infirmary’s main room itself, and stressed looking lady was talking with a frantic visitor at the desk. When they stepped out of the front door and into the street, George looked around in awe.

It was dark and chilly, like Sapnap had mentioned, but the streets were illuminated by beautiful blue lanterns. George had only seen blue lanterns and torches in the richer homes of his city, since it was dangerous to get the soul sand from the Nether to create them. It looked like a normal city’s downtown at nighttime, though all of the buildings were made of endstone and purple clay. 

Dream seemed to pay no mind to the strangeness of the city, though, and they continued down the streets. One street had markets lined up down the sidewalks, and George hoped that eventually he would be able to check them out himself. People were chatting lively with each other, roaming in groups. They all seemed normal, and he wondered how so many people got here in the first place. 

“Where are we going?” George asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Dream didn’t even look his way. 

“To where I live. You’ll be staying there from now on.”

“Oh,” he replied softly. 

A few people glanced at Dream, and George wondered if he was an important figure or something. Some of them smiled, some of them looked weary, and some just looked confused. Dream didn’t glance their way once.

The building they stopped at seemed normal; multiple stories high, a mix between gothic and Victorian like the rest of the city. Inside the double doors revealed some sort of library. There was a front desk where no one sat, and rows upon rows of ancient looking books thicker than George’s fist. In a nook of some of the shelves was an enchanting table, the book upon it opened to some random page. 

They walked to the back where there was a small staircase leading up to the second floor. The second floor must have been Dream’s house, or at least George assumed so. The place they walked into was some type of living room. There was a coffee table, a sofa, and it opened up into a spacious kitchen-slash-brewing area. 

Then Dream led him up yet another small flight of stairs, ending in a hallway with three doors. “The room at the end’s mine, but you’ll stay in the extra bedroom until your concussion heals.” he said, after their long walk of silence. George shifted on his feet uncomfortably, and watched as Dream opened one of the doors. 

The room was simple. It had a bed, a little table, a desk, and a door to what George assumed was a closet. He noticed his rucksack on a chest at the foot of the bed. There was one window, the blinds and curtains opened slightly enough for him to see the street below. 

“The room next to this is the bathroom. I have some business to attend to, so I suggest you shower and get some sleep.” Dream said flatly, standing in the doorway. Just as he pulled away, George called out to him.

“Wait!” Dream stopped, the stupid smiley mask staring him down. “Uh, is there a time system here, or…?”

“There’s a clock on the table next to the bed. It’s a little past ten.” His tone was softer than before, and he moved to shut the door gently. “Sapnap will come check on you once a week, by the way.” he added before the door clicked shut. George sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. The shower could wait until next ‘morning’, since he had already showered earlier at the infirmary. 

It was lonely here, in some stranger’s house with no Sapnap to talk to or the soft background noise of inaudible conversations. He found himself missing the place he had began to call home while he was forced to stay in the End. The only comfort he had was the fact that he would see his friend sometime soon.

George slid beneath the covers, surprised at how soft the mattress was. It was even more comfortable than his bed back home, and he sunk into it, succumbing to the dark tendrils of peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this first chapter was probably really boring and fast paced im sorry
> 
> BUT i hope to get the next chapter out by the end of next week, i actually surpriserd myself w how much i wrote :)
> 
> pls leave comments/kudos if u enjoyed <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dream just wanted to take george out, chaos ensues ;(

Dream hadn’t been too talkative towards George since he brought him to his home.

For the past three days, they’d fallen into some sort of routine. They would eat breakfast separately (Dream left food for George, always gone before he woke up) and then George would spend his time reading a random book about plants he’d found in his room. Then Dream would make lunch, study in the library, dinner, and then leave once again. 

Most of the time, George found himself alone. So on the fourth day, when Dream was sitting at the island in the kitchen at breakfast, he stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing here?” he asked before he could stop himself, realizing it probably came out quite rude. It was Dream’s house, after all.

“I don’t have anything to do today,” Dream said, taking a bite of the bacon he prepared. George wasn’t quite sure if there were animals in the End too, but he assumed so since there was meat and eggs and milk. 

“At all?” George raised his eyebrows, awkwardly taking a seat next to Dream. 

“At all.” confirmed the masked man, seeming a bit amused at George’s shock. “It’s a Saturday, George.”

George bit into his bacon silently, blushing at his own unawareness. “It’s always nighttime here, I don’t know the days.”

“You can see the sun, actually. It’s too far away to rise and set like Earth, though. I’ll show you later, if you’d like.”

For a brief moment, George wondered if Dream had been here long enough to stop considering Earth as _home_ , and he realized that he hadn’t been thinking of it much himself. That’s what being on some alternate planet far away must do to someone, he supposed. He only nodded in agreeance at the offer, excited that he would probably be getting out of the boring house.

The silence between them was much more comfortable than the previous times they’d been together, where it was tense and awkward. George wasn’t sure how to approach Dream. He was this tall, brooding figure, always so serious and absent that it felt like he wasn’t there at all sometimes. It surprised him each time Dream came home.

“I see I left my guide to plants in your room,” Dream spoke suddenly as he washed their plates off. “Have you learned anything yet?”

George stared down at the countertop pointedly, embarrassed that he was caught snooping around. “Yes. I didn’t know there were so many types before. I never bothered to learn about flowers before.”

Dream chuckled at that. “Really? I always thought it was interesting, all of their meanings and colors.”

“Well, I’m colorblind.” he deadpanned jokingly, before realizing that he probably didn’t know Dream well enough to joke. But he was surprised at the wheezing laughter that came from his companion.

“No way! You’re such a loser,” he said between wheezing, placing the plate in the dish drying rack. “What colors can you see?”

“Blue and yellows, mainly,” admitted George, a small smile peeking through. It was surprisingly nice to be more comfortable around his housemate. “I can’t see greens or reds, no purples or pinks either. Everything is kind of gray or yellowish.”

“Does it bother you?” Dream inquired curiously. 

“No, not as much as people think. It was always normal for me, I guess, so…” he trailed off, shrugging nonchalantly. It was true. Most people were shocked at the revelation, but it was just like growing up being right-handed. You didn’t think much of it, it was just the way things were.

“That’s fair. Well, you know, the library downstairs is always open to you, if you want to go find books about other things. It’s sort of open to the public, though.”

George nodded, deciding that he would probably take up on the offer considering how awfully boring it was being by his lonesome. “How is your concussion?” Dream said, taking a seat at the table once again. The mask was still so unsettling. Did he sleep with that thing on?

Shrugging, George fiddled with his hands in his lap. “It’s okay. Just headaches and stuff.”

Dream hummed in acknowledgement. “Sapnap’s gonna come later. To check on you.”

“Oh,” he mumbled in response, but a small smile played on his lips. He missed the company of Sapnap, who always seemed to joke with him no matter what. At least back in the infirmary he had the company of the younger man. 

“You miss him, huh?” Dream chuckled. “He came with me, to the End. He keeps asking about you.”

“You knew him before you came here?” George questioned, brows raising in surprise. It made him realize just how little he knew about Sapnap or Dream, only contributing to the loneliness that crept in lately. 

Dream nodded, standing slowly from his seat. “Since we were kids.”

Dream’s hand was then outstretched before his face, and George took it gingerly. “Let me show you to the library.”

The stairwell was a distant memory to George, something he hadn’t stepped foot in since his coming here. The library was mostly empty. A man with glasses was behind the front desk, sifting through large books that were just as lengthy as his plant guide. There were very few people in the library, just a couple people roaming about the endless shelves.

“What are you interested in?” Dream asked, stopping them just behind one of the shelves. They were out of the view of the public. 

“Um,” George spoke quietly, looking around the tall shelves. Every book looked so old and intimidating. “I like computer stuff— like coding and all of that.”

“Computer science,” said the other man, a hint of a smile in his deep rumble. “I’ve read lots of books on it here.” They were weaving through the shelves then. As they passed, George realized some were in some other strange language; it was unlike the ones he had seen on Earth. It was made strictly of jagged symbols and lines, woven into some strange thing he was unable to comprehend.

The shelf they stopped at was void of people and had books of many languages, including some of the strange ones. He gingerly rubbed a finger scross the strange gold symbols engraved into the leather cover. “What does this mean?” he asked Dream, staring curiously.

“‘A Comprehensive Guide to Computer Science’. It’s in the End language.”

“How do you even… read that? Or say it?”

“You don’t,” Dream replied amusedly. “It’s not a spoken language. The symbols aren’t really words, just meanings.”

The concept was foreign to George, and a little difficult to wrap his head around. He wondered how Dream had learned the language, before moving on to the books in English. They all looked generally the same, but his eyes fell on a bright blue cover. 

George took it out carefully, the thickness covering nearly his entire palm. That was one way to spend his boring concussion, he supposed. Even though he sort of despised reading and writing when he was in school, it seemed quite interesting as he flipped through it quickly. Dream chuckled at his color choice.

The man — or, as George looked closer, _demon creature_ — at the front desk looked up, flustered at the sudden approachment. “Dream!” called his voice, sounding friendly and inviting.

“Hey Bad,” hummed Dream. Bad, what a strange name. Though he seemed to be fairly normal. there was black horns poking through the black and red-embroidered hood upon his head. The horns and matching tail seemed less intimidating at the extremely welcoming face and vibe he gave off. “How’s Skeppy?”

“Oh, just recovering,” Bad giggled, scanning George’s book. “Who is this?” 

“I’m— my name’s George,” he smiled nervously. It was nervewracking meeting new people in the End, but he had always been so outgoing. 

“He was the next tribute to fight the Enderdragon,” Dream butted in, leaning with his arms on the desk. Looking at him from the side, George could see the faintest tail of his eyebrow and the golden wisps that grew beside his ear and faded into stubble on his jawline. There were tiny, faint freckles on the top of his cheeks. George found himself desiring to rip the stupid mask off. It wasn’t fair.

“Well, you’re always welcome to visit the library, George!” Bad exclaimed, his smile adorned with sharper than normal canines. The softness he radiated made George relax, a calm smile on his lips. He decided he probably would come every once in a while.

It was supposedly afternoon by the time Sapnap came; George had retreated to his room, nose in the computer sciences book. It was actually mildly interesting, he found. Though he didn’t enjoy reading most of the time, it was different learning about something you enjoyed.

Dream went back to his room as well, and there was a blanket of loneliness that overcame George when he watched his figure disappear behind the wooden door. It seemed he was back to his books. He didn’t call out the way he wanted to, choosing to go into his room, too. 

The pair of footsteps outside of his door were unfamiliar. Dream had light, calculated steps, but these were heavier. A knock on the door surprised him. “George?” 

A grin spread across his face. It was Sapnap, finally. George called out in response, and then the door was opening to reveal him. He looked about the same, stubble trimmed a little neater. George tried to stiffle a laugh at the fact that he sort of looked like a total chad.

“How’s it going?” Sapnap exclaimed, holding his arms up. There was a rucksack slung over his shoulder, made of dyed leather. The smile he wore was inviting as always. 

George stood from his bed, stretching his limbs. “I’m okay. The headaches are less frequent.”

“Seems about right,” he shrugged in response, “it should be gone completely in about four weeks. They usually last three months but since the time is cut in half, it’s six weeks.”

George nodded, and watching as Sapnap placed his bag on the bed and began to dig through it. He pulled out a case of vials of what George presumed was more strength and healing potions. “These should get you through the next week, take this now,” he shoved two of the bottles into George’s hands.

George had gotten used to the routine of downing the potions so he did so with no difficulty. Sapnap began to make small talk, completely changing the conversation.

“How is Dream? Is he being nice to you?” 

George sighed solemnly. It wasn’t like Dream was a complete dick; but he was awfully lonely with how often he was away, and he didn’t seem too keen on speaking with George either. The moment at breakfast was a strange occurence that was most likely a one time thing. 

“We don’t talk much,” began George slowly. “He isn’t really home most of the time.”

Sapnap scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course. Dream is really— um, nice. Since coming to the End, he’s closed off to everyone but me and Bad. I rarely see the real him anymore.” 

There was a twinge of sadness swimming within his voice and eyes, fleeting and leaving George feeling terrible. He hadn’t really known anything about Dream except for the fact that he was revered around the world for his performance with tbe dragon. People regarded him as some sort of legend. In the End, he wondered if people knew that about Dream.

“Oh.” was all George could think to say. “We talked this morning at breakfast for the first time. He was… joking around and stuff, it was _weird_.”

“Hopefully he warms up to you,” Sapnap sighed wistfully. “He needs someone new.” The topic moved on, flowing away from Dream and onto different things.

When Sapnap finally took his leave, it left George with a strange feeling. What was the real Dream like? Was he happy and bubbly, was he mean, was he the angry stone-cold figure George had seen? His brain was a whirlwind of thoughts of who Dream really was.

On the fourth week of his recovery, Dream was once again back at breakfast time. On the weekends, he came, took George to the library, and then went back to his room or left. There wasn’t much talk past a few jokes or small talk. Never anything important.

However when the sun was setting (supposedly), Dream retrieved him from his book and told him to find some nice casual clothes. Confusedly, George dressed himself and cleaned up his appearance. 

Dream still had the mask on, and he wore nice jeans and a smooth black shirt. At first, George thought they were going to the library since Dream led him down the stairs, but he realized that they were going _outside_. 

People were milling about, chattering amongst themselves and sometimes taking looks at Dream. “Remember how I said you could see the sun?” asked Dream, looking to the vast dark sky. 

“Yeah, I do,” George mumbled, searching the sky for the sun Dream spoke of.

Softly, Dream grabbed his hand, forcing his pointer finger to extend towards the sky. The touch burned through George’s skin straight into his very bones and he had no idea why. He guided his hand towards where the sun would probably be setting if they were on Earth; there was a star, brighter than the rest and slightly bigger to the point where it was noticeable. It twinkled in the sky, sinking slowly into the horizon. 

“It’s so far,” George whispered, eyes wide. It made his heart ache for the familiarity of Earth, no longer a place he could consider home, but still a memory of the distant life he led just weeks ago. The wetness in his eyes surprised him. He hadn’t been missing it so much, but seeing just how far he was hurt a little.

“Mhm. Don’t dwell on it too much,” Dream said softly, dropping George’s hand. Then his arm came to wrap around his shoulder, pulling him closer; he had big hands, George realized because his hand covered his shoulder easily. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

They passed the buildings that George very distantly remembered from the journey from the infirmary weeks ago. The markets were still set up, beginning to become busier with the apparent “nightlife” in the End. The streets were made out of _obsidian_ , and George couldn’t help but wonder how long it took to make them. 

The place Dream brought him to seemed to be deeper in the downtown, and looked pretty. It was a restaurant and in the front there was a patio filled with polished wooden tables. A pergola stood tall over them, strings of blue lights twined through the beams to light up the area. It was beautiful and George was in disbelief that this was where Dream wanted to take him.

Dream chuckled at his shocked face. “Pretty nice, isn’t it? They have really good food, trust me, you’ll like it.”

Apparently Dream must have had a reservation ready because he led George to one of the tables outside. Two menus were ready on the table with silverware neatly wrapped beside it. It wasn’t like George had never been to a fancy restaurant before; he grow up in an upper middle class family living in the middle of a city. There was just something about the End and blue fire that made it all the more special. 

George was surprised at how normal the menu looked. There were typical foods, like fancily prepared meats and soups. “How do people get all of this food to the End?” he asked, skimming it for what he wanted.

“There used to be a portal to Earth. Until it broke, it was easy to transport food and animals over here.”

George nodded, deciding not to question any further. He knew it would be the same answer as always -- “when your concussion has healed.” Ugh. A waitress came over to take their orders and drinks, and they didn’t make much conversation while waiting. George looked around the area, taking note of all of the different people and places. 

“It’s nice here,” he traced the grooves of the table with his eyes, and tried to ignore the fact that the white mask Dream wore was staring him in the face, “can you see out of that thing?” Then realized that was a really dumb question. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to walk around without bumping into everything. 

Dream seemed to think it was funny, though, bursting out in a wheezing laugh that made the tips of George’s ears burn in embarrassment. “Don’t answer that,” he groaned, trying to fight the smile that was attempting to force its way onto his face. 

“I can’t believe you just asked me that! What is wrong with you?” Dream guffawed. George giggled, and then the waitress came carrying their plates of food. Dream ordered a delicious looking steak, glistening with sauce and seasonings. George went with some type of chicken that came with a complimentary vegetable soup. The steam was a welcome warmth on his face.

“Sapnap missed you,” Dream said, the mask pushed up just enough for his mouth to show. It wasn’t the first time George saw him eat, but each time he couldn’t help but notice the plush pink of his lips and the way his teeth glimmered bright white when he smiled. He shook his head metaphorically, trying to shake those strange thoughts from his brain. 

George swallowed a mouthful of the soup, surprised with how good it actually was. For a brief moment he debated on telling Dream what Sapnap said, and came to the conclusion it couldn’t do much harm, “He said you ‘need someone new.’” A slight blush rose to his cheeks.

“Of course he would say that, he’s an idiot. I think _he_ needs someone new.” George could practically _feel_ Dream rolling his eyes beneath the mask. He giggled at the joke though, imagining Sapnap being a total chad just like how he looked. The thought was hilarious to him. 

George continued to study the parts of Dream he could see. There was some golden stubble on his jaw still, and he had the tiniest bit of sauce stuck on the corner of his mouth. His cupid’s bow was illuminated in the blue firelight, flickering ever so softly. That stupid mask -- all he could think about was how he looked like beneath that. Sure, he had seen some of the side of his face and the bottom, but he couldn’t even see the main parts of him.

The rest of the dinner was a quite comfortable silence. Even though George wanted to ask questions, it was nice to be in the quiet as well. He wondered what Dream was thinking, what was on his mind, how did he feel. What did he even do outside of the house all the time? All he said about it was that he had ‘work’ to do, and left it at that. 

“Do you like the book you picked?” Dream asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He had finished his food by that point and George was sipping the last drops of his drink.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. I don’t really like reading usually so…”

“Really? I love reading and writing.”

“English was my least favorite subject in school, I like maths more. They actually make sense,” George shrugged, grinning around his straw. “There’s always one answer no matter what. No bullshit philosophies.”

Dream gasped, putting hands over his heart in mock hurt. “That’s the fun part about it all! You can interpret it however you want to.”

“Yeah, okay nerd.”

“Oh come on, you’re the one who likes math, George. _Math_! Don’t call me a nerd,” he exclaimed, stacking his plates for the waitress who was coming by. George followed suit, rolling his eyes.

“You like bullshit philosophies.”

They argued a bit more on whether English or math was better, even as they walked away from the restaurant and farther down the street to the markets. They stopped before a stand that sold little dolls, jewelry, and figurines, all of them looking handmade. George’s eyes stopped on one of the little dolls.

It was made of what he believed to be birch wood. It was a man with his arms crossed and wings. The most striking thing would have been the emerald green eyes if he wasn’t colorblind. He gingerly picked it up; it fit within the palm of his hand, and he studied it.

“The Totem of Undying,” Dream’s voice surprised him, and he jumped slightly. He could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and his warmth seeped into the skin of his back. “Not a real one, obviously, but it’s pretty accurate.”

“The Totem of Undying?” he asked, running his fingertips across the smooth wood.

“Whenever you have it, it’ll save you from death. They’re really hard to get, though. I’ve gotten one or two before, but I lived just a ways away from a Woodland Mansion. You can have it, if you want.”

George nodded, and watched as Dream paid the old lady behind a table in the tent. She gave George a smile as he walked away, eyes twinkling with something he couldn’t quite place. He assumed she made it, and he slipped the little figure into his pocket.

They went on their way then, back through the market. The hairs stood up on the back of George’s neck when Dream suddenly stopped. A bright light was coming straight at them, and he was slammed into the ground by Dream, who was cussing now.

People began to scream and flee the scene, and he was protected by their stomping feet by Dream, who wrapped his body around George’s. 

George’s heart raced and the blood pounded in his ears. What the fuck was going on? Another bright light sped past them, exploding some of the market’s tents behind them. “Come on,” Dream hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He tripped over his feet clumsily, trying to follow as fast as he could. The smell of burning flesh made him nauseous.

When he looked up to the end of the street, there were people with bows and crossbows, the weapons pulsing with enchanments. They took aim straight at George, and his eyes widened as he followed Dream’s lead. Dream dragged him through a dark alley, coming out to the street with the library and Dream practically pushed him through the doors once they reached it. “Go, get to your room, hurry,” Dream shouted. It scared George enough that he rushed up the staircases and into his room. He slammed the door shut, listening to the chaos outside and Dream’s footsteps creaking the floorboards. 

The footsteps disappeared back down the stairs, and all George could do was lay in bed and try to catch his breath. 

It all happened so fast that he wasn’t sure what exactly happened. There had been armor clad warriors shooting flaming arrows into the city, setting fire to buildings and exploding the streets. It made him sick and he pulled his trash can close to him to throw up. People _died_ , and he knew it. That smell was absolutely sickening. 

He tried not to think about Dream being out there, tried not to worry about what exactly he was doing. Cautiously, he peeked through the curtains of his window, staring down at the usually dark street below. Flames licked at the obsidian streets, not strong enough to destroy it, but scary enough. 

Then he saw Dream’s figure, wielding an axe with a crossbow strapped to his back. There was blood staining his jacket sleeves and George didn’t know if it was his or somebody else’s. As soon as he swung at one of the attackers, cutting through their measly leather armor, George snapped the curtain shut and fell back onto his bed. His chest heaved when the image replayed in his head.

George had always considered himself a strong person. So when hot tears began to slide down his face, he desperately tried to stop them in shame. It was just too much for him, though -- he buried his head into his pillow and tried to suppress the quiet sobs that racked his body. He missed Earth so much, missed the days where he would spend all day reading while Dream was away at work, missed Sapnap and the infirmary, missed his friends back on Earth. 

The little figurine in his pocket poked his thigh, so he took it out to study it once again. The wood felt so smooth and comforting beneath his fingertips. Even though it wasn’t real and Dream didn’t have it on his person, he prayed to the Gods that Dream would come back in one piece.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent there, but it was long enough to fall asleep. The door to his bedroom clicking shut woke him up, and the bed dipped beside him. A warm hand was on his back, and he whipped around and sat up, startled. His brain tricked him into thinking it was one of the attackers.

“Calm down,” Dream whispered. His mask was cracked and through the small sliver, George could see the tiniest glimpse of his eye, dark in the room with no light. “It’s just me.”

“Are you okay?” George said quietly, eyes raking over Dream and searching for injures. He wore a blue T-shirt now, his left arm wrapped up in gauze. The mask was pushed up to reveal his mouth again. George saw him smile bashfully. 

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “I drank some potions so.. I’m fine.”

“What was that?” he laid back in bed, surprised when Dream laid beside him. The bed was somewhat small but held just enough room for them to lay on their backs comfortably. 

“I can explain some tomorrow. I guess it was inevitable that _something_ happened. For now, we should just sleep, okay?”

George nodded, relaxing into the soft mattress. “You’re not gonna sleep in your room?”

“No -- I need to be here in case they come back. Unless you want me to?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he said. 

In the darkness of the room, the soft comfort of sleep overcame them. George dreamt of explosions and fire. Perhaps the most terrifying thing, though, was the green hoodie soaked in blood in his arms. In front of him lay Dream. His mask was torn off and there were so many cuts on his body, but his face was obscured by the lack of light. George cried out to him, desperately trying to reach out to him.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t save Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo i am so sorry, this was supposed to be updated last weekend but school kicked my ass
> 
> i hope yall enjoyed either way!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> george learns some things

The few days after the incident happened had been full of George mulling over thoughts. When he woke up the bed was cold, meaning Dream had left a long time ago. He didn’t show up at breakfast and he wasn’t in his room so George assumed he left to Gods know where. 

The shock had sort of prevented him from any other thoughts at first, but now he had to realize that Dream _killed people_. To be fair, those people had tried to kill him first — but the thought remained.

George had killed mobs tons of times. For fuck’s sake, he killed the Ender dragon. He also had seen many farm animals be slain and bled in front of him. It was normal growing up. But killing people? No, definitely not. 

The only time he had seen somebody dead was after a murder that he luckily hadn’t witnessed. The person’s body was covered by a thin white sheet, painted red by thick blood that pooled out from underneath it. He was only eleven years old, and his parents hurriedly whisked him away from the scene. He had nightmares about it for a week.

George didn’t see Dream at all the next couple days after that, but every night was filled with fear and nightmares about Dream killing people — killing _him_. He found himself thinking back solemnly to the night it had happened, when Dream lay next to him in bed and slept there to protect him. Why had he left?

It was a little intermission within the somewhat friendly bubble they were creating. George found himself missing his presence a lot at breakfast time. 

Somewhere around the middle of the week, Sapnap appeared. He wasn’t due until Saturday and it was only Wednesday, so George wearily glanced at the door when he entered, believing it to be Dream. 

Sapnap looked stranger than George had ever seen him; there was no big smile on his face or potions in his arms, all of the happiness replaced with a somber expression. “George,” he said wearily. “Uh—“ he seemed to freeze up, mouth pulled into a tight frown. 

George sat up straighter at the table, twiddling his fingers anxiously because he didn’t know what was going to happen now.

“This time wasn’t supposed to come so soon because of your concussion and all, but… the attack kind of ruined that.”

There was a worried flame burning bright in Sapnap’s eyes, unlike the usual happy sparkle. “What was that about?” George asked quietly, staring straight into his face, challenging him to tell him to wait for the truth again. It was frustrating to have your life at risk and have no clue why. Sapnap looked nervous; good.

“Dream-”

“No,” interrupted George, brows furrowing angrily, “I think I deserve to know at least something.”

Sapnap sat down across from him at the table in Dream’s usual seat, and looked at him with an exasperated look. There was concern written across his face and he shifted uncomfortably. “There’s sort of a war going on right now,” he began. “between the End and the Overworld and this guy named Schlatt.”

“And this concerns me why?”

“He wants the Enderdragon, and some.. other things. There was some prophecy involving you and Dream, but you’ll have to talk to him about it, George.”

The solemn silence that befell them was uncomfortable. “Where is Dream, though?”

“He sent me to take you to him.”

Wherever Dream was, it was quite far. Sapnap boarded them up into a carriage pulled by skeleton horses, something George had previously believed to be a myth. They moved far past the city, through the outskirts, and into an endless terrain of yellow dust and stone and endermen. 

Sapnap’s previous comfort had diminished into some sort of tension between them. George sort of despised him in the moment for keeping the secrets from him. Initially he thought maybe those people were after Dream and he was caught in the crossfire. But the discovery that he was apart of a prophecy? That hurt his brain too much to think about.

“I would have told you,” Sapnap spoke cautiously, as if George was a wild animal ready to dart at any moment. He sure did feel the part, at least. “Dream wanted you to be okay before he told you.”

“I feel fine.”

“You aren’t,” he scoffed. “You still have a concussion. Look, I’m not really a true medic or anything -- Dream just wanted me to watch over you, but I do know some shit. You’ll hurt yourself more if you tried to start training now.”

George really tried to ignore the fact that Dream made Sapnap basically babysit him because he obviously didn’t believe he was capable of taking care of himself. The anger boiled beneath the surface, and he clenched his hands into fists. But he decided that was the lesser important of two things. “Training.” he deadpanned, interest peaking then.

“You’re gonna have to fight, George,” he admitted. “It’s- it isn’t a choice, either. You and Dream were in that prophecy for a reason.”

It felt a little stupid. Having to fight for something he truly had no fucking clue about, thrust into this world like a crying baby with no mother to be his saving grace. All he could do was stare at his shoes as if they were the best thing on the planet and try not to think about it all too much. His stomach churned with the realization he might have to kill people the way Dream did.

The flat plains turned into another city, somewhat similar yet George recognized that it was different. It was much more suburban than a large downtown area like the previous one; it felt more homey for sure. The house they stopped at was a small, simple house made of black bricks. 

Dream was outside, standing there in his hoodie and mask as always. It made the anger coil hotly in George’s stomach again. Fuck him for having secrecy and protection behind the mask, while George was basically left for dead. Fuck him for leaving him in the dark all this time.

When he got out of the carriage, Dream opened the front door for him. He walked past him briskly, feeling ice splinter his heart. Dream’s mask followed his back before greeting Sapnap and thanking him for bringing George. When they exchanged hushed words and goodbyes, Dream shut the door and told George to sit on the couch.

“What’s up with you?” Dream asked, venom in his words. He towered over George more than usual this way, standing before him with crossed arms. The stubble on his chin had grown out more. George wondered if he was as stressed as he felt himself.

“What’s up with me?” George said angrily, deciding to stand then. “I get thrown into this… this whole _new world_ and I’m involved in a prophecy and you don’t think I deserve to know _shit_?” he accused. By the end of his mini rant he was practically yelling, but he didn’t care. The stoic smile of Dream’s mask fueled the fire within him, shoveling hot coals into it.

“It was for your safety, George,” Dream said, voice flat and calm. It stung.

“Don’t you think I at least deserved to know _something, _Dream? I don’t know your name, what you look like, nothing. I don’t know shit about the End. I have no idea what the hell is going on with this so-called ‘war’ that I’ve been forced into. So tell me, or else I’m going to leave and try to find out how to get home on my own.”__

__Dream ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, and he sighed out of exasperation. “I’ll tell you some things, George, but believe me when I say you can’t get home yet. Just sit down okay?” He felt out a hand in what felt like a truce, and George took it, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the couch with Dream. It felt like backing down._ _

__“I can’t tell you about myself, yet. But the portals are broken by Schlatt, the big man in this whole war. He wants to take the Enderdragon for himself and destroy the Overworld and take control of every planet.”_ _

__“And the prophecy?”_ _

__“I don’t really know much about that,” admitted Dream, “but I know it has to do with me, you, and the Discs.”_ _

__“The Discs?”_ _

__“They maintain the balance of the different realms, supposedly created by the Gods. The balance has been disrupted because of Schlatt, and it’s up to us to fix it.”_ _

__“You really believe we can do that?” George said doubtfully, glaring at the dumb mask._ _

__“Well we either do or the entire universe goes to shit, so I guess we kind of have to,” Dream teased, before sighing. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I wanted to. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”_ _

__George noticed a tiny spot of blood on the sleeve of his jacket, and his heart jumped into his throat again at the realization. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “I get it.” He didn’t want to get it._ _

__“Breakfast?” Dream said then, lifting his mask ever so slightly to reveal his crooked grin._ _

__“It’s noon,” George countered, and a smile wormed its way onto his face at the dynamic they fell back into. “But sure.”_ _

__

__Dream had been much more present then. He didn’t disappear for long hours of the day and night, instead doing things around the house all day. It was a little weird, trying to adjust to really living with Dream._ _

__They had to share a bedroom, but Dream slept on the couch. For the past two nights, though, he’d settled into bed with George and fell asleep there, claiming it was for _protection_ , though George wasn’t so sure about that. A part of him believed that the loneliness was getting to Dream. That’s how he felt too; the desire for human interaction and contact was becoming a bit overpowering. The warm, sleeping form of Dream next to him was an unexpected comfort. _ _

__It was unnerving that he slept with the mask on._ _

__The end of his concussion rounded the corner, until finally a visit from Sapnap deemed him free of the condition. Though he should be glad about it all, a sense of vile dread constricted his ribcage because that meant he would have to be thrown headfirst into some war he had no clue about._ _

__The dryness of his mouth was almost painful as he tried to calm himself down from the growing anxiety gnawing its way through him. George felt like he might die then and there. Maybe if he did he wouldn’t have to deal with this all, but it seemed he was all out of luck._ _

__The first thing he had to do was eat healthier, as Dream put it, and start out on some basic workouts. George had always been a skinny guy so he didn’t expect to put on much of anything, but he would be lying if he said the workouts weren’t refreshing. They left him feeling less anxious and stronger each time, easing the worry in his gut._ _

__Time passed despite the fact he didn’t really have a concept of it anymore. Sometimes when he went into the stretch of yard in the back of the house, he looked to the sky to find the sun that Dream had showed him and found himself missing the warmth of its closeness. All he could do was hope to go back home someday._ _

__Dream came to him with a sword one day, wooden and not sharp at all. “Do you know how to use a sword?” he asked._ _

__“Yes,” George scoffed, staring through his eyelashes at Dream. “They chose me to fight the dragon for a reason, Dream.”_ _

__“I bet you learned how in some schoolboy academy,” he teased, reminding George that he had come from a village out of the way of cities. There was no big schools like he had in the city. He made a mental note to talk to Dream about it one day. “Believe me when I say it’s a lot harder to actually fight. Especially Schlatt’s men.”_ _

__He handed George a wooden sword, before holding his own and charging suddenly at George. The techniques he used were unlike what he had learn in school, and he found himself struggling to parry and counter the jabs and attacks. George desperately tried to fight back, but it was unlike fighting a mob._ _

__

__Dream’s sword made way through his arms to rest against his throat, and there was a mischievous smile on his barely visible lips. George’s chest heaved and he stared into the blackness of the mask’s eyes._ _

__In the moment, George realized the eyes were a mesh and he could see Dream’s eyes beneath them. They were fiery and held a spark he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t lying about having green eyes for sure, but they looked more gray and yellow to him. Long eyelashes framed them. Then he was pulling away, standing over George with that stupid smirk. “I told you so, Georgie.”_ _

__George swatted at the taller man, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, I wasn’t trained like that.”_ _

__“Village life is much harder,” grinned Dream, before holding his sword up again. “Let me teach you.”_ _

__They sparred until George’s muscles ached with the practice he hadn’t had in so long. Dream was really good at swordfighting, unsurprisingly. Sweat dripped down his face even though the air was chilly. Dream had taken off his hoodie at some point, clad in a plain black shirt. The lean muscle of his arms was visible then. George tried really, really hard not to think about it._ _

__He swore he never liked boys before; only girls, so he convinced himself that observation was simply admiration of muscles._ _

__Dream pushed his mask up to take a swig of water from the bottle he’d pulled from the refrigerator, throat bobbing with each swallow. George gulped and began to drink his own bottle of water, sighing at the relief it gave him._ _

__“You did good,” Dream chuckled, patting George on the back. “I thought you’d be worse.”_ _

__“Wow, thanks,” George rolled his eyes and set his water on the kitchen counter, “I’m not dumb. I was one of the best in my city.”_ _

__“Shame that you were classically trained.” he sighed._ _

__“Can you at least tell me some stuff?” George pleaded once again, staring into the depths of the mask. Dream was rigid and silent for a moment, probably not expecting the sudden questions. George was getting tired of the secrecy once again._ _

__“Like… like what?”_ _

__“About the war, Schlatt. Why you went back through the portal and everything.”_ _

__“Well,” Dream began, pausing in thought and tilting his head downward. George stared at him intensely, waiting for his response, for the _truth_. “Schlatt is the- the ‘president’, I guess, of a planet called L’Manberg. He’s more like a dictator, but he wanted to steal the Discs and all and cause universal chaos so he could overrule everyone.”_ _

__“For what?” asked George, eyes wide in wonder. How had no one on the Overworld known about this?_ _

__“He just likes power,” shrugged Dream, taking the final sips of his bottle before throwing the plastic bottle in the trashcan._ _

__“So why did you go back through the portal?”_ _

__“Um.” Dream was a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, seemingly unsure of what to say. “The war was going on and I got dragged into it, I guess. I went back to get my stuff and Sapnap and I’ve been here ever since.”_ _

__“And where did you go all day, back at the library?”_ _

__“Training with Sapnap,” he admitted, “plus I had to kind of plan some shit to get to L’Manberg and defeat Schlatt. Which involves a lot of research and all.”_ _

__George didn’t really feel satisfied with the whole ordeal. He came to the realization that Dream probably didn’t know much himself, too, although he was sure he knew more than he let on. Defeated, he leaned back against the counter and sighed. “The prophecy?”_ _

__Dream only shrugged in response, before saying quietly, “I really don’t know about it. I just know it involved the past two tributes to kill the dragon, which means me and you. Something about us restoring the balance, so.”_ _

__“Oh.” whispered George, eyes tracing the patterns in the granite of the counter. What was he supposed to think? He looked to Dream, saw how his shoulders were pulled tight and he looked_ _

__“Yeah,” he huffed. “Well, I trained you with the sword good enough. Tomorrow you’re gonna have to learn how to use the sniper.” Dream’s shoulder brushed his as he walked off to their shared bedroom. George stared after him, unsure of what to do._ _

__First of all, sniper? Why the fuck did he need to know how to use a gun. He hated the sound of all of this. It felt cold in the kitchen without Dream there beside him. George found himself increasingly craving the presence of Dream without a viable reason, and it confused the hell out of him._ _

__He was cautious when he crept into their room later that night, laying gently on the bed next to Dream and studying his mask. Technically he could pull it off then and there while he slept, but that thought made him feel sick. He didn’t want to disrespect the privacy that Dream clung onto. Maybe he’d show him himself when the time came._ _

__George fell asleep facing Dream, one of his hands outstretched enough for their fingertips to brush ever so slightly in their slumber._ _

__

__The sniper rifle was heavy in his hands. Dream showed him how to hold it properly, moving his hands and angling his body. The muffs on his ears were a bit uncomfortable, but Dream had insisted that he didn’t go deaf._ _

__They came far out into the empty plains to shoot endermen. There was nothing around for miles, just barren wasteland filled with the tall black creatures out in the distance. He stared through the sight, the zoom focusing in on the endermen._ _

__“You have to study your surroundings first,” Dream had instructed him. “Get a feel for it. You’ll miss if you go straight in. Prepare for the recoil.”_ _

__George had never shot a gun in his entire life. He’d never seen a gun in person. He never _expected_ to, but here he was, holding a fucking _sniper_ that he would probably use to kill people within the next couple of months. The thought was sickening. _ _

__After Dream demonstrated a few times, missing only one shot, he let George try it out. Taking a deep breath, George composed himself and analyzed the endermen. He found one that was stationary, staring at the ground, and aimed at its chest. Then he put his finger to the trigger and pulled._ _

__The recoil was more than he was expecting, but he braced for it the best and could and winced at the gunshot. It was still loud through the earmuffs, albeit muffled. The shot whizzed through the air and the round collided with the chest of the creature. It screamed out of pure anger and agony, jaws wide open when it kept trying to teleport away._ _

__Slowly it bled out, going limp when it could no longer try to escape the pain of the bullet. It broke George’s heart a little bit. Dream was facing him, and gave him a high five. George was shaking and he didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the shock, but probably both._ _

__“That was fucking good, you’re a natural,” Dream exclaimed, dropping his gun to give George a big side hug. His grin peeked out from the bottom of his mask. George let the gun roll out of his hands to collapse into the embrace, tears beginning to run down his cheeks and he didn’t know why. His body shook with the sobs and he clutched Dream’s green hoodie, trying to cling to the safety of another human._ _

__“George?” Dream asked, panicking as he brought a hand to push his hair back from his forehead and wrapping the other around his back. George felt stupid for crying over shooting an enderman, but he didn’t want to have to kill people. He didn’t want to have to put people through that type of pain. “George, what’s wrong?” Dream tried again._ _

__“How can you just-- just kill people so easily, Dream?” he choked out, shaking with anguish. “I can’t do this.”_ _

__“I grew up with it… you’ll get used to it. The people you’ll kill are people who have committed crimes ten times as worse,” Dream mumbled, pulling George closer. They stayed like that for a long time, George sniffling into Dream’s chest and trying to calm himself down. He didn’t want to have to do this._ _

__“Why did you grow up like that?” he asked._ _

__“Villages had a lot of conflict and all.”_ _

__“I only saw a dead person once... “ George breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered, “they had been shot or something on the sidewalk, I saw all of the blood, and my parents found me and brought me back home. I had nightmares about it for a long time.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, George. I wish I could say that you don’t have to.”_ _

__George wished he could, too, but he supposed that this was his life now and he would have to accept it. They packed up the guns then and began the trek back home. The enderman’s body was left on the dusty rock, left to rot and be mourned by its companions._ _

__Home was a welcome comfort and George collapsed into bed without a second thought. He felt like the world’s biggest pussy for crying after shooting an enderman. An _enderman_ for the Gods’ sake, like he hadn’t done that loads of times before in his lifetime. Maybe it was just the fact that it felt way too close to the real thing for comfort. _ _

__Dream lay beside him, sleeping next to him for the fourth night in a row. The room was so dark, George couldn’t really see anything. The faintest light cast dark shadows over Dream’s mask and figure, who lay on his side to face George. It startled the silence between them when Dream moved his hands behind his head, and George heard a click._ _

__He had unclasped his mask._ _

__George sucked in a breath, staring at Dream in confusion as the mask fell between them. It was too dark to see him, really. Faint slivers outlined the curve of his cheekbones and nose, twinkled in his eyes. The way his mouth fit in with the rest of his face. His hair framed his face. Tiny clues to the bigger picture._ _

__“Dream…” George spoke almost wistfully, reaching out a hand to touch, but he retracted it quickly when Dream flinched. All he wanted to do was turn on the light and see the truth. But he knew how big of a deal this was for Dream. This was his form of apology for the day’s troubles; an exchange of one of the softest depths of his heart for George’s own._ _

__“I know,” Dream sighed, moving closer to George. He wrapped his strong arms around his body, pulling him close, engulfing him in warmth. George felt his entire being relax into the touch and he sighed in contentment. Dream was trusting him enough in that moment. Even though it wasn’t in full light, George had the tiniest idea of his appearance then._ _

__And for the first time since coming to the End, George’s sleep was undisturbed by discomfort or nightmares._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been such a long time again i have 0 concept of an upload schedule 
> 
> also it snowed here! which gave me motivation to write because last time we had real snow like this was 13 years ago.
> 
> thank you for all the kudos/comments/hits, i appreciate u all! hope you enjoyed<3 this was a bit of a short chapter at only 4k but what can you dooo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a new face :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whewww its been so long! i hope to get back into writing this fic, im sorry to the few people who have subbed to this for not updating in so long!!! ive been rly rly busy :<
> 
> hopefully this is up to par for yall

Training became less brutal on his body with the passage of time. George forced down the heavy feelings about death and shooting the gun each time he had to, and tried to remind himself that one day he’d be free from this hell called the End. 

Dream never took his mask off again. The night after he had, George woke up with no one on his bedside and was left wondering if it was all a dream. Logically he knew it wasn’t, but the hazy feeling around the memory sure did feel like it. It was surreal that Dream trusted him enough to take off the mask, even though it was too dark to truly piece together his features. Sometimes the thought left him breathless.

A new face in the form of a fluffy brown haired boy in a frog hoodie had come along at some point. This was Karl, a master builder as introduced by Dream. His presence was kind and he was brought along by Sapnap, both of which would be staying in the house. George envied Karl and Sapnap’s closeness; he had never seen Sapnap be so soft before, but it was totally adorable (though he’d never admit it to his face).

Karl had an infectious smile and laugh, and always seemed to brighten up situations. Having more people in the house other than Dream was nice, albeit a little strange at first. George had to get used to living with new people all over again. An office-esque room had been transformed into Sapnap and Karl’s bedroom.

Long days were spent training with Dream and sometimes Sapnap, working out and building his agility and skill. Dream worked on the ship a lot with Karl. Apparently it would be used to transport them to L’Manberg, a long and daunting journey just on the horizon of George’s future. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready to go and murder people, no matter what they had done. 

“Dream likes you a lot,” Karl had observed the one time George had been coerced into helping him with the ship alone. The previous times, Dream or Sapnap had been there. It was the first time Karl and him had really spoken alone.

“You think so?” George asked, unsure about that. It didn’t really seem like it at all. Sure, he borderline showed him his face and gave him basic hospitality. That didn’t mean he quote unquote _liked him a lot_.

“Well, yeah!” he laughed, tightening some bolt on one of the large metal panels on the ship. “He doesn’t talk to people much.”

“I think he just talks to me because he has to,” George didn’t mean for it to come out so coldly, but his voice was like ice as he turned his back on the nicest person he’d ever met. Immediately afterwards, he felt guilty for being mean to Karl, shoulders drooping as he leaned back on the ship. The words felt foreign in his mouth as he apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“It’s okay,” Karl’s ever cheery voice reassured him. “Dream _does_ like your company, or else he wouldn’t give you stuff and put a roof over your head. He can be really harsh to people he dislikes.” Karl shuddered at that, and George wondered what exactly Dream had done.

“Have you ever seen his face?” he asked quietly, fiddling with the wrench in his hands, locking and unlocking it. Karl furrowed his brow, shaking his head.  
“Only Sapnap has, but they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “One night, a while back… after I was shaken up about something he came to sleep with me. He took his mask off. It was too dark to really see anything. But when I woke up he was gone, and he never did it again.”

Karl’s eyebrows raised comically, pausing his tinkering with the panel of the ship. “And you think he doesn’t like you, George? He never shows his face, ever, not even to his closest friends. You must mean a lot to him for him to do that.”

The conversation dwindled after that, but George found himself thinking back on it. He supposed that it was sort of true. Dream did have to trust him to show or tell any of his personal information. He also came upon another strange realization; having Dream by his side sated some deep primal feeling within. It felt as if maybe their souls were connected, though that sounded much too silly to be true.

George tried to force down those thoughts.

The ship was coming along nicely. Karl was quite good at building, better than the rest of them. He also had an extensive knowledge about technology, new and old. The model was fairly sleek with shiny titanium panels making up the sides. The cockpit had a large window wrapping around the front, glass tinted slightly blue. It sort of reminded him of an airplane, except the way the cockpit window sloped into the blunt nose was a bit different.

Despite the progress of it, it still had a long way to go. Four months in and they were still hard at work on the project. George, of course, was still being forced to train by Dream. Swords, guns, corssbows, all of it. 

Perhaps his most favorite weapon was just a simple bow and arrow. Dream insisted that he should be well versed in every weapon just in case, because you never know what could happen. He pretended not to notice George taking up more time with the bow than the other weapons. 

His favorite one was fairly lightweight for a bow and crafted out of copper that oxidized into sea green, sparkling with what seemed like mystical glitter. The string was goldspun silk. It almost reminded him of Dream’s hair. Dream told him that the bow was given to him by some ancient civilization on another planet, and was highly revered there and enchanted with unknown powers. He also pretended not to notice when it slowly migrated to George’s chest instead of his. 

George was still toothpick thin, but lean muscle had began to build on his figure. Sometimes he found himself standing up straighter, taller, with more purpose. Training was paying off, but the thought of murdering people still plagued his thoughts on late nights. Dream didn’t sleep with him often. The only times he did were when he was so bone tired and claimed he needed to protect George, whatever that meant.

The logistics of the journey were still somewhat up in the air.

“The flight itself will probably take a couple months at the very least,” Karl had sighed one day at the dinner table. They sat in their usual formation; Dream and George on one side, Karl and Sapnap on the other. Tonight they feasted on deliciously filleted fish and rice, cooked by Dream himself. He was a surprisingly good cook. 

“What are we even going to do when we get there?” George inquired. 

“No idea,” Dream rumbled. “We don’t really know what to expect when we land. Obviously we’ll end up fighting with Schlatt one way or another. There’s not really a set in stone plan for that.”

“Great, I loved going into an unfamiliar planet with zero plan,” Sapnap groaned, shoving a glob of rice into his mouth. George could practically _feel_ Dream’s glare on much, smiling secretly at the fact. Sapnap knew too, because he flicked a stray piece of rice at Dream, who pursed his lips unamusedly, trying to fight his own smile.

“Once we get closer we can probably gauge the state of the planet,” reassured Karl. “We might not have to just jump straight into battle.”

 _Hopefully not_ , George thought painstakingly. He would probably fail immensely if they were to jump right in. All his life he had tried to avoid conflicts as much as possible. It was just his luck he would be thrown into one that decided the fate of the universe.

Later that night, he laid on his bed and messed around with the two figurines of the Gods. One was made of lapis, depicting Caeruleus, though his true color was actually closer to the blue of diamond ore. He was the beauty of the world, the pacifist, the balance and harmony. He was the vast sky itself. The other was emerald, Viridem. He was essentially the opposite; chaos, destruction, ruling over Earth and all land. Together they worked in tandem, a part of each other, balancing all out. 

Sometimes when tributes defeated the dragon, they claimed to have visions of the Gods speaking to them in a foreign language that they didn’t understand. All the knew was that they were revealing some higher knowledge that could not be understood by the tribute. If that was a real thing or not, no one knew. 

Dream waltzed in, shutting the door with a soft click and laying next to George. Wordlessly, he took the sculpture of Caeruleus, studying it for a moment. “It’s weird how mythology came to be,” Dream huffed slightly. “Like, maybe they were real dudes and just played some magic tricks. Maybe they didn’t exist at all. Maybe they are out there still today and really are true.”

“Was your village religious?” asked George after a moment of silence. He ran his fingers over the carved armor on Viridem’s lithe body, admiring the detail of the sculpture. 

“Yeah. Probably not in the way cities were. Villages were always more… traditional, I guess you could say. As in, we had to do offerings to them and everything.”

“They were really just figures in our cathedrals. The religion didn’t revolve around them so much. It was modern, of course.” George admitted. He set the figure on the bedside table, Dream handing him the other one to do the same. There was the faintest hint of moonlight. It was calm and peaceful outside.   
“Do you believe in them?”

George shrugged. “Kind of. I feel like they did exist. That their souls are the only part of them still around now. Maybe they did just play magic tricks, like you said.” He didn’t say it out loud to Dream, but he always felt a strange connection to the deities. He didn’t want to be seen as some religious freak, though, so he kept those feelings to himself all of his life. 

“Me too,” Dream said. They both fell quiet, laying side by side in the quiet, dark room. It was comfortable. George could just feel the heat radiating off of Dream’s body. The bed creaked under the shifting weight of Dream. “Are you worried about the journey, George?”

“Yeah, a little,” he said quietly, embarrassed at his own admission. 

“If it makes you feel any better, so am I,” Dream yawned, stretching slightly before turning onto his side to face George. “Schlatt’s been building up a military, I heard. Doing things at an arm’s length so he doesn’t have to get involved himself.”

“You really think I’ll be ready to fight him?”

“‘Course you will,” scoffed Dream humorously, a smile in his voice. “I’m training you.”

“Shut up,” giggled George, heart beating loudly in his ears when a warm hand found its way to his. Dream’s fingers threaded in his, a comfort in the dark uncertainty of his future. He supposed there was some truth in the statement, considering Dream had been picked for his incredible talent and quick wit.

After a few quiet moments, George spoke his mind. “Do you ever miss Earth?” 

Dream was silent for a second, weighing his answers. He sighed, tightening his grip on George’s hand for a brief moment. “Sometimes, I guess. I think about my siblings and family, and my pet cat, and how they’re probably worried about me. Going on an adventure was fun at first. Now I’m in a war. I miss how calm it was there, I guess.”

George hummed in agreeance. “I had an older sister, but she was long gone to a bigger city to get a degree and work. I’m sure my parents and friends are freaking out.”

They talked about the differences between village and city life for another hour before passing out, hands still interlocked even in sleep. Dream was still there, sound asleep when George woke up the sound of the door opening. He cracked his eyes open slightly, just enough to see Sapnap’s shocked face. He quickly shut them again, listening to the closing door and fading footsteps. 

Dream woke up a little later, yawning as a smile spread across his lips. George wondered what his smile would look like without his mask. It would probably compliment his face. “You talk when you sleep,” Dream commented, squeezing George’s hand. 

“What? No I don’t,” grumbled George defensively, rolling his eyes. 

“You do,” breathed Dream, thumb rubbing the back on his hand softly. The callouses on the pad of his fingers were rough against the skin, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “It’s cute.” he joked. George’s face turned bright red as he sputtered defenses, practically speechless. 

They only parted whenever footsteps came closer to their door, both of them sitting up and George blushing profusely. Sapnap knocked, then opened the door once hearing Dream’s voice. His face was tinted red as he stuttered on his announcement that him and Karl had cooked breakfast.

George decided not to tell Dream that they’d been caught.

The ship was ready within the next three months.

George found himself closer to Dream. Somehow they gravitated towards each other in most situations. Dream fell asleep in his bed for the better half of the few months; they didn’t _cuddle_ per se, but they definitely were close enough to feel each other’s body heat. It became a bit difficult to sleep when Dream wasn’t by his side, whispering to him about random things in the late hours of the night before they slept.

One thing he had started to notice was that Dream was very affectionate and touchy with people he liked. He saw it at times with Sapnap, the joking flirting and the way they would randomly sling an arm over each other or sit close enough for their thighs to touch on the couch. That wouldn’t be so bad, except the fact it was tenfold with George.

It seemed Dream’s new favorite hobby was to make him blush. It was a sharp change from the previous ice spiking through their acquiantanceship. Of course, as if matters couldn’t get any worse, Sapnap and Karl had definitely noticed. They teased him sometimes for it. It was quite embarrassing. 

It took a while to stock up on all the food and other resources they would need. It was Sapnap’s idea to bring along an ender chest, storing all of their things in it. When they finally boarded the ship, in an empty field far away from their house, George’s hands felt clammy and his heart fluttered rapidly. He wasn’t ready to go on the journey, even though it would be months until anything actually happened.

Dream was busy with loading their belongings, but he paused to stand next to George. He placed his hand on the nape of his neck, fingers playing softly in the hair there. It reminded him that he needed a hair cut as soon as possible. Unconsciously, he leaned into the touch. It only lasted a few seconds but it was enough to temporarily calm his nerves.

It took a full two days to ready the ship and get boarded for takeoff. George watched as distant stars and planets moved; in reality they moved quickly, but the distance between them and the size of the objects themselves made everything seem as if it was in slow motion. It was quite fascinating. He’d only ever been through portals and traveled through land. If the portals weren’t broken, he was sure that he wouldn’t have to take the journey on the ship, but he found himself not minding very much.

Karl’s work paid off; it was easy to walk around the ship comfortably and it was mainly smooth sailing from takeoff. Being cooped up on a ship with three other people got kind of awfully annoying, though. Sometimes he retreated to his little cabin area to get away from the chaos. Dream’s personality shone much more on the flight, though.

“Why do you wear the mask?” George asked one day. Karl and Sapnap had headed to bed long ago. It was the tired hours of the night; the kind that made someone act out unlike they usually would. Dream seemed surprised at the question, staring out the little ship hole window they had to the space outside. 

“It gives me protection, I guess,” he shrugged. “No one really knows who I am in the End. It’s nice like that.”

“Except Sapnap?”

“Except Sapnap,” Dream confirmed. “But we’ve been friends for so long. Way before any of this.”

“How did you meet?” The hum of the engine was the only noise beside their voices, a constant sound that was becoming a comfort to George. There was little he truly knew about Dream despite their budding friendship.

Dream laughed quietly, a small wheeze slipping in. “When we were younger. he went around the playground we had and asked every single person if they wanted to be friends. I was the only one who said yes, ‘cause I felt bad. We ended up becoming best friends after that.”

“You care about him a lot,” observed George. It was clear in Dream’s voice: he would die for Sapnap if he had to. 

“He’s my brother in everything but blood,” nodded Dream. George stared at the side of his face. All he could really see was the tip of his ear peeking out from his hair. It had grown out a lot since they first met. It was nearly to his shoulders. He chopped it off regularly, but it grew back fast. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like that. Just ones that I spoke to in school or whatever.”

Dream sucked in a breath, ducking his head briefly. “Well you have me now, Georgie.” he joked.

“I don’t see you as a brother,” he confessed. “I don’t know why.”

For a long pause, Dream was silent, staring at his crossed legs. It was times like these where George wished he could see his face, to see what exactly he was thinking. It would be much easier to decipher him. 

“I know what you mean. It’s like that for me, too. You’re… different.” It felt like a secret. The flickering light of the candle on the bedside shelf lit Dream’s hair for a moment, encasing him in a heavenly glow. George had never felt anything like this before. The way Dream made his heart burn was completely different than anything he’d experience. 

If he didn’t feel so foolish doing so, he would liken it to the crushes he would get in middle school, multiplied times a hundred. He stared into the eye holes of the mask, catching a glimpse of the sparkle of the flame in Dream’s eyes. It was enrapturing. If only he could see the rest of him.

“Do you have a lot of freckles?” George asked stupidly, remembering the little dots he had seen on the side of Dream’s cheekbones before. When he took the hoodie off, they were on his arms, too. 

Dream laughed, “What?”

“Nevermind,” he blushed darkly, looking away. 

“I do, I guess,” Dream answered honestly, the mischievous smile still on his lips. “Why, do you want to see?”

“No! I was just wondering,” George defended himself. “Because I see them on your cheeks and arms.” He froze in surprise when Dream lifted the corner of his mask slowly. It still covered his eyes and nose, but he positioned it to where George could briefly see the smattering of freckles across his left cheek. 

“I used to have more, when the sun was still a thing,” joked Dream, moving the mask back over his face. George silently mourned the loss of the little glimpse of his face. 

Silence fell over like a warm blanket. They were like that for a long time.

“Are you ready to land soon?” inquired Dream, tinkering with a sword that he was fixing. Karl and Sapnap were laughing loudly in the cockpit, and George could heard them all the way in the back of the ship. 

“No,” George said honestly, eyes downcast. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to _murder_ people.”

Dream looked up at him, mouth open in what George assumed was surprise. “George, those people do terrible things. They’ve committed mass genocide of planets.”

“It’s still hard,” he admitted. “How do you care so little?”

The masked man didn’t answer at first, as if weighing his options of what to say. “Growing up in the village, there were a lot of attacks from pillagers. It gets normalized when you grow up like that. I guess it doesn’t bother me so much because I know those people are fighting for a terrible cause. They murder hundreds. They deserve it.”

“I’m not sure if anyone deserves to die, Dream.”  
George felt the fire in his own eyes, challenging Dream to go against him. Maybe Dream was right; if these people were committing genocide then maybe they did deserve a taste of their own medicine. But George liked to see the good in people. There was a possibility they had just been coerced into the wrong path. 

He had heard stories of pillagers. They were violent groups of people who rained hell upon innocent villages, cursing them and destroying them. Growing up in a city meant he was protected from things like that; they didn’t live by the traditional ways of life. It made him realize how soft he probably was next to someone like Dream, who had probably been killing people since he was a kid.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to submit to the idea.

“If that’s what you believe, George,” Dream shrugged, and though he sounded unbothered, George saw the tenseness of his shoulders. 

The journey only had a couple weeks at most left. They’d been travelling for just over two months. George turned his back on Dream, making his way to their shared cabin and literally staring off to space, trying to prepare himself for what exactly was to come. 

“Is your name really Dream?” asked George a week later, as they neared L’Manberg. Village people had strange names often, but he found himself wondering if it was even Dream’s real name. After all, Sapnap’s actual name was Nick, though he only heard Dream and Karl call him that on few occasions. 

“You’re such an idiot,” giggled Dream warmly. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Shut up, everyone here has weird names,” blushed George. “What is it?”

After a moment of hesitation, Dream finally said, “Clay.”

George burst out laughing. Dream was a ridiculous name, but it at least sounded cool -- Clay on the other hand? Absolutely ridiculous. How could one’s parents name them after a type of dirt?

“Did you parents hate you? _Clay_?”

Dream rolled his eyes, but he still grinned widely. “At least I don’t have a basic name, _George_.” There was a hint of red on the very bottom of his cheek that was visible from under the mask when George said his name. It made him smile.

After almost three months of travelling by plane, George watched in absolute terror as L’Manberg loomed closer. From high up, he could see the layout of bustling villages and brilliant rivers. There seemed as if there was no looming threat of war and destruction. Maybe he was wrong, who knows.

All George knew was that he absolutely _dreaded_ what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit shorter than the other chapters buuuut i hope thats okay :'( 
> 
> kudos/comments are appreciated <3 :) tysm for reading


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